


Winter's Solitude

by Maeve_of_Winter



Series: Forgotten Paths [1]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Angst, Foster Care, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: Teenage Dan Mangan starts on the road that will lead him from New York City to Sleepyside.Written for2nd Jixanny CWP





	1. Chapter 1

**Summer Before Freshman Year**

The last day of eighth grade is the day Dan's mother dies, killed in a car accident by a reckless driver. That night, he's placed in a temporary foster home, as his father is overseas with the military. And that night, he departs from Paterson, New Jersey for New York City. In hindsight it's a remarkably naïve of him—he's never lived there, only visited for day trips with his school or parents, but the energy of the city entrances him, lures him in. In books and movies, protagonists are always pulled away from their mundane lives and swept up into an adventure. Why shouldn't Dan have his chance? The city will be an exciting place to live until his father returns home.

However, money is an object. Less than a week into his city sojourn, he's arrested (though never charged) for stealing a loaf of bread. Privately, he suspects the lack of further legal action is not due to mercy on behalf of the shopkeeper, but mismanagement on behalf of the foster care system by forgetting where he's been placed. Confounding the matter further is that his social worker was apparently switched, and no one seems to know who will be taking his case. His second pair of foster parents, Laurell and Jon Dowd, are by far the most clueless of all, but then, Dan suspects the haze of smoke constantly surrounding them is substantially more illicit than just marijuana.

A teenage girl, another foster kid named Rafaela, also lives in the home. She's tall, slim, and pretty, with expressive dark eyes that can't quite hide a tired resignation. "My eighteenth birthday is the first week of September," she tells Dan after he introduces himself. "I'll be gone by the end of the summer."

"Won't anyone come looking for you?" Dan questions.

Rafaela shrugs. "If you run away a few days before you age out, no one's going to care. It saves the agency the trouble of forcing you to leave. I'm not going to stick around long enough for them to kick me out onto the street."

"But where will you go?" Dan persists.

"I've got something worked out," Rafaela tells him vaguely.

When she offers no further information, an awkward silence ensues, so Dan switches topics. "The man from the agency who dropped me off mentioned there's supposed to be another kid here. Who's that?"

An odd expression crosses Rafaela's face. "Look, honeybunch, here's the thing. You want to get by in this house, you don't ask that many questions. People come, and people go. That's it, all right?"

"Um . . . all right," Dan replies uncertainly.

"Good." Rafaela digs around for a moment in her purse, which Dan can't help but notice looks like it's from an expensive brand, before withdrawing a business card. "We're in this together, so we got to look out for each other. If you need me, that's my number on the back. If you _really_ need me, try the number at the front."

"Thanks." Dan accepts the card.

"A few tips for survival around here, hon." Rafaela taps her heel nervously on the wood floor. "This is Hell's Kitchen. You know that saying about never taking candy from a stranger? That goes double here. And if somebody is making you nervous, even if they're in this house, even if you can't figure out why? You get away from them. You leave, no questions asked. A lot of people are going to take advantage of you when they realize you don't have any parents—"

"I have a father," Dan interjects.

Rafaela continues as though he hasn't spoken. "—don't let them do that. If you need to get away from someone, just kick them in the groin and run." She looks meaningfully at Dan. "That includes people in this house. And by the way, in case you haven't figured it out yet, Laurell and John spend most of their time cracked out. Do your best to avoid them. Don't spend too much time here—no more than eight hours at a time. Not even if you're sleeping. I got places where I go. I can show you them, if you want."

Though overwhelmed from the amount of warnings, Dan manages to nod. "Sure. Why not?"

* * *

As it happens, Rafaela knows all kinds of people and can get into all types of different places— restaurants, cafes, and clubs. If she doesn't know the person working the door, then she has a name she can drop to gain entry. And once she's through the door, she's welcomed with shouts and greetings from all over the venue. Usually, she sashays off into the crowd, leaving Dan on his own, and that's how Dan meets Luth.

They're at some party, in an empty house that's up for sale. Dan has barely followed Rafaela through the door when someone forcefully shoves against him, knocking him off balance and down to the ground.

"Sorry about that," a deep voice says, and a hand grasps his upper arm and pulls him upright.

Dan looks up to find a tall, muscular teen standing before him.

"Thanks," Dan says shortly, reaching across his chest to pry the teen's fingers from his bicep.

"Oh, sorry." But the voice isn't sincere, and the look in the older teen's dark eyes is even less so. "Let me introduce myself. My name's Justin Luther, but you can call me Luth. I'll be a senior at Lawrence Academy this fall."

He holds out his hand, and Dan accepts it warily, but doesn't offer any introduction.

"I noticed you right away, you know," Luth tells him. "How could I not? You just look _so much_ like me." There's a note to his voice that unsettles Dan. "I've seen you around a few times, always with Rafaela. Is she a friend of yours?"

"We live in the same foster home," Dan responds cautiously.

Luth smirks. "And you figure going out is better than staying in, hmm?"

"What can I say? I like the fresh air," Dan replies, an edge creeping into his voice. He can't explain why, but something about Luth unsettles him.

"I like it, too." Luth leans in closer to Dan. "So what do you say we get outta this place and go to where there is some?"

Though he doesn't trust Luth at all, Dan considers his options. During the past few nights, he's had more than enough loud music and shouting, and besides, he's tired and wants to escape to somewhere else for a little while.

"All right," he concedes to Luth. "Take me wherever you want to go."

And Luth does. They jump into Luth's sports car and speed off into the night, to restaurants and shops where Luth waves around his parents' credit card and tries to impress Dan. While underwhelmed by the display, Dan is a firm believer in it's the thought that counts. At one point, when Dan stops to admire some shoes on display, Luth buys them for him without a second thought. To be honest, the shoes are fairly ridiculous—black snakeskin cowboy boots studded with bits of silver and turquoise. But it's a welcome change for someone to be thinking of Dan, to want to give him gifts, to want his approval and attention.

That night sets the tone for the rest of the summer. The only child of wealthy parents, Luth enjoys an existence that's carefree to the point of hedonistic, and, since Dan is tagging along, so does he. Luth does what he wants when the urge strikes, goes wherever he wants because he has the means, and buys whatever whenever, because money has never not been available to him. Oftentimes, Dan finds himself receiving purchases from Luth's careless spending, and while he can't deny that he's flattered, in the back of his mind, he's always wondering what price Luth expects him to pay. For the time, though, Dan is content to let Luth finance his meals as well as clothing and, given Rafaela's warnings about the Dowds, also provide him with shelter.

Like Rafaela, Luth knows people. People on college campuses, people in hotels, people hosting parties, people in luxurious apartments, and people in run-down apartments. He seems to have byzantine connections that span across all neighborhoods and social classes. Luth never seems to need a break or to take some downtime from the constant movement of his lifestyle; after crashing for a few hours on someone's couch, or in a spare bedroom or hotel room, he's raving and raring to start all over again.

At least some of Luth's manic energy is explained when Luth drags Dan along with him to Jake's Hamburger Place, a seedy restaurant that looks like it hasn't been thoroughly cleaned since its inception in the fifties. There, Dan lingers by the door as a lookout while Luth goes to a back table already occupied by several other individuals. Few words are spoken before Luth removes several bills from his pocket, pushing them forward on the table in exchange for a plastic bag that's quickly accepted and hidden from sight. Luth then switches tables, again going to a booth with occupants, this time waving Dan over and making introductions.

As the summer days wear on, Dan begins to notice the more irrational, temperamental aspects of Luth's personality. Whether he's become more alert to Luth's faults after realizing his drug use, or because Luth's habit is escalating, the honeymoon is over.

On a muggy night just before August ends, Dan is more than exasperated with Luth's behavior—they're currently stuck in traffic, and Luth is cursing up a storm, honking the horn of his Mustang for all it's worth. A new spike of irritation stabs Dan with each profanity spewed, and he finds himself grinding his teeth. Not helping Dan's mood is Rafaela's sudden disappearance—she's departed from the Dowd home without a trace left behind, just as she said she would. The only way he manages to keep his temper in check is by reminding himself that drug users are unpredictable and violent people.

"Take me home, Luth," Dan orders him testily.

For a moment, Luth doesn't seem to hear him, completely occupied with making a nuisance of himself. But then he whirls to face Dan. "What?" he demands.

"Take. Me. Home." Dan grits out.

Luth lunges forward and grabs Dan's wrist. "You're not going anywhere," he hisses.

All his life, Dan's considered himself more reactive than active, and this instance is no exception. Determined to escape Luth's grip, he reaches out with his free hand, yanks Luth's head forward, soundly smashes his own forehead against Luth's nose. With a howl, Luth lurches back, and Dan doesn't waste the opportunity to throw the door open and sprint outside into the still, snaking lines of traffic.

For the first time since his arrival, Dan spends the night in his attic room at the Dowds'. The space is sweltering due to the lack of air-conditioning, but Dan doesn't care; he's not going to sleep tonight, anyway. Every time he closes his eyes, Luth's eyes glare at him in fury, his face twisting into something ugly.

Why the incident upsets him remains unclear to Dan. It's definitely not even on the top ten list of terrible events that have happened since he entered the Dowd household.

But Dan can't sleep at all that night, the sequence flashing through his mind over and over.

In the next few days, Luth is conspicuously absent. He fails to make an appearance to pick up Dan from the Hamiltons, and none of the regulars at his familiar haunts have either seen or heard from him. Privately, Dan thinks this development is for the best, even though he can't ignore a lingering sense of guilt and foreboding.

* * *

**Fall, Freshman Year**

With his main source of survival having vanished and Rafaela long gone, there's nothing left for Dan in New York City. He packs his bags and ships off back to Jersey, where he can go to wait for his father.

Unfortunately, through his own misunderstanding of the bus routes, Dan ends up in Pennsylvania. Unable to ask any type of adult for help due to his status as a runaway, Dan is forced to attempt to resolve the situation himself. His efforts lead him to Delaware, where authorities locate him and place him into yet another foster home, a farm operated by a family known as the Sleins.

A warning accompanies this placement: he's a twice runaway at this point, and he'll be out with three strikes and sent to a juvenile detention facility. The ruling seems harsh to Dan, but he supposes that as far as the adults are concerned, he's living off the taxpayers' dime in either foster care or juvenile prison, so it doesn't make a difference to them where he goes.

The Sleins are a very religious family. They don't believe in electricity; apparently, God calls to them to make do without modern amenities. The only piece of modern equipment is a single pickup truck the remains on the property in case of emergencies.

"We believe in simplicity," Mr. Slein relays to Dan when giving him a tour of the property. "Rejecting the corruption and sloth of modern times is our path to the Lord."

Dan looks out over the vast fields of crops. "I'm Catholic. Do you really want me following your path, too?"

"Yes. Our way will lead you to God," Mr. Slein informs him severely.

Again, there's another foster kid on the property, an older teenager who only introduces himself as Sebastian. He and Dan will be sharing a room.

"I'm not surprised to see they've gotten another boy," he tells Dan tiredly. "They've had two other guys who've both aged out since I've been here, and one of them told me they had at least two more before that. What the Sleins do is adopt teenage boys, usually older ones, sometimes ones who've had behavior problems, as long as those problems are nonviolent. They use them for work, because they get money for housing foster kids, and now they're also getting free labor. But they don't keep any on once they turn eighteen. Not without any more government checks coming in."

"They're using us," Dan surmises.

Sebastian sighs. "Tell me about it. The foster agency doesn't give a damn, because the Sleins are taking kids no one else wants, and besides, farm work is supposed to be good for troubled kids, or so they say." He looks at Dan. "I was booted out to this place after being arrested for buying oxies. You?"

Dan shrugs. "I was arrested once, between my first and second foster home. Shoplifting. Charges were never filed. This is my third home. I ran away from my other two."

"Running away," Sebastian muses. "That's what I'll be doing in another couple of weeks. My birthday is coming up, and I don't want to have to be told to leave."

When Sebastian does leave later that month, he does so without any fuss, quietly slipping off in the night. Waking up that morning, Dan finds a pile of clothes at the foot of his bed, presumably items Sebastian deliberately left behind for Dan, either because they no longer fit or he couldn't carry them with him. The act of kindness from someone who owes Dan nothing and has very little for himself is touching, and Dan resolves to repay Sebastian one day, if he ever has the chance.

However, soon Dan finds himself quickly forgetting Sebastian ever existed. No one mentions him. Other than reassigning his various chores to different members of the household, the Sleins give no indication that they've noticed he's gone.

Nearly a month passes before Dan realizes he could write to Luth. The abrupt transition of transferring from a city that never sleeps to an isolated farm with no contact with the outside world has muddled him. Nothing seems real here, not anything beyond what he can see and touch, which basically amounts to crop fields and farm tools. The rest of the world seems insurmountably distant, like a memory of a fading dream.

Though he's never known Luth's home address, he directs the letter to Jake's Hamburger Place in the hope that someone there will pass it onto Luth. Bargaining with one of the older Slein children for postage, Dan agrees to take on the daily chore of chopping wood for a week in order to ensure his letter is mailed.

Weeks pass with no word from his father and no response from Luth. The weeks turn to months, and soon, fall cools to winter, and, without any type of contemplation, what was once new to Dan easily becomes routine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Winter, Freshman Year**

The Sleins don’t send their children to school, instead teaching them at home. With only six and half hours of academics per day required by the state, this way the children have significantly more time for chores. Though Dan would normally be indifferent to this change, he’s disappointed once he discovers the woefully lacking educational resources the Sleins offer. Beyond the Bible and various scholastic primers, there are no books to be found within the household.

While Dan has little time for reading between school and farm labor, and is exhausted by both to the degree that he would lack the energy to even focus on reading, he desperately wishes for some method of escape. Even his copies of _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy have mysteriously vanished, no doubt confiscated by the Sleins in an attempt to protect him from heathenism.

Christmas with the Sleins is almost as austere as everyday living; they view the whimsical modern version of the holiday as laden with ostentatious frippery. Beyond a change of menu, longer hours of prayer, and slight increase of dinner portions on Christmas Day, the entire season passes with nary a mention or indication of celebration.  

January is concluding when Dan receives a letter in the mail from the military, containing the message that his father is dead, killed during an overseas SEALs mission.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dan tells Mr. and Mrs. Slein in regard to the letter.

Initially, the two of them seem very taken aback by his statement, too much so to speak. The Sleins are firm believers that children should be seen and not heard; dialogue rarely takes place within the household beyond prayer or essential discussion about the farm and its tasks. Meals are mostly silent beyond the parents instructing the children on the necessary chores and the clinking of cutlery against the china. At times, days pass without anyone speaking to Dan or him speaking to anyone else, simply because no one engaged him in conversation

Finally, though, Mrs. Slein responds. “Pray,” she suggests. “Pray, and God will show you the answer.”

A pause ensues as Dan searches their unsympathetic expressions and forms his response accordingly. “What I mean,” he says haltingly, “is that I’m not sure what action is needed for this situation. Should I be making funeral arrangements? Should I buy a headstone? There’s no body to bury, so I really don’t know how to continue, or what my next step should be . . .” His voice trails off as the Sleins stare unblinkingly at him without a hint of compassion, or even interest.

“Pray,” Mr. Slein tells him. “God will give you all the answers you need.”

Turning his back on the two of them and walking out the front door, Dan roams the property until he finds the highest hill in the vicinity, and climbs to the top. He remains there, gazing out over the farm’s fallow fields, until long after night falls.

* * *

On February fourteenth, Dan turns fourteen. For a present, his recently located uncle visits him to discuss the possibility of taking custody.

His name is William Regan—Dan’s mother mentioned him occasionally, only ever referring to him as “Liam.” He’s well-built, tall and broad with obvious muscle, and he has the same copper red hair, malachite green eyes, and freckled face as Dan’s mother did.

One feature in common with his sister than he lacks, however, is her smile. When she was alive, Daniella Mangan laughed often and easily, a smile always ready on her features. Liam Regan’s face remains perpetually set in a grim, stony expression.

“Here’s how it goes,” Liam informs him tersely. “I’ve asked a friend of mine, a gamekeeper named Elijah Maypenny, to allow you to live in his house in exchange for you helping on the Wheeler game preserve. You’ll be working part time, since you’ll also be attending the local high school. Got it?” He fixes Dan with an icy stare.

An uncommon sliver of self-consciousness pricks Dan at the irritability directed towards him. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware that his jeans are ultra tight due to being several sizes too small, and his sweater is overly large, with the neck stretched to one side and exposing one of his shoulders. He probably looks like a street urchin. This situation is not what he expected; though he had no fantasies about being welcomed into someone’s home rather than forced upon them by the state, he didn’t predict quite the level of hostility Liam is projecting.

“Not to pry, Liam,” Dan drawls, “but is there any particular reason I can’t go to live with you?”

A muscle in Liam’s jaw twitches, and his mouth, already set in a thin line, thins even further. “First, these days it’s Bill, and most of the time, I’m just called Regan. Second, my employer has children, as do several families around the neighborhood. And I don’t think they’d want their children exposed to a delinquent such as yourself. I have to consider what’s best for my job before I think about you.”

With that, he turns on his heel and exits the room, possibly on his way to speak to Dan’s latest social worker.

“That’s arguably fair, I guess,” Dan says to the empty room. In the back of his mind, it occurs to him that he should send a letter to Luth to update him on his situation.

* * *

The gamekeeper Dan’s going to be living with seems nice enough.

“Call me Elijah,” he says, shaking Dan’s hand with a strong grip. “No need for formalities if we’re going to be stuck under the same roof.”

The cabin is surprisingly modern, not only outfitted with electricity and a refrigerator, but also a dishwasher and microwave, though neither appear frequently utilized. The floor plan on the first level is semi-open and most of the surfaces are polished hardwood, the various lamps of the well-lit area reflected in the shine. The floor is covered by sizeable crocheted rugs, and the walls are lined with intricately patterned quilts that hang like tapestries. The entirety of the decoration appears to be handmade. Momentarily curious, Dan lifts up a corner of one of the quilts to find the back of it embroidered with the message, “To Elijah, Love Junia.” Suddenly overcome with guilt at the prospect of intruding on another person’s private memories, he lets the cloth drop from his hand.

One particular aspect of the kitchen catches Dan’s eye. Fixed to the wall beside the refrigerator is an eighteen inch by eighteen inch metal sheet with various small canisters attached to it, somehow remaining lengthwise parallel to the floor. The center of the canister lids are translucent, and each one is labelled as a different spice. Experimentally, Dan lifts one of the containers off of the metal sheet and finds that each has a magnet on the bottom.  

The setup seems very contemporary for a hermit who lives alone in the wood, and suddenly, Dan wonders about the modern utilities of the cabin. Elijah Maypenny may live alone now, but Dan is willing to bet money that he didn’t always.

His suspicions only increase when Elijah tells him to pick out a room upstairs.

“You’ll have the floor to yourself,” he says, stirring a pot on the stove. “My bedroom is on the first floor, at the back of the house.”

The U-shaped staircase takes Dan to the second floor, through an open loft area with a doorway. Once past the door, Dan finds himself in a hallway that contains three bedrooms.

The first bedroom is decorated in yellow and the second in red; never a fan of bright colors, Dan decides to try the third before making any final decisions. Sure enough, the third room suits his tastes much more than either of the other two.

The room is bright and clean, with the walls paneled in a burnished hardwood that is pale, almost white. The floor and furnishings are of similar material, maybe a shade or two darker, but not by much. The frame of the double bed has the traditional square headboard and footboard with low posts.

Decoration is sparse. Carolina blue curtains, of the typical country style, frame both of the two windows. The quilt on the bed has a carpenter’s color wheel pattern of ivory, dark blue, and medium blue. A large oval crocheted rug of matching colors is settled on the floor in the very center of the room. Other than the bed, the only other furniture is a beautifully carved desk, a tall chest of drawers, and a floor to ceiling bookcase. The desk is in the middle of the same wall as the door, while against the adjacent wall is a bureau, and at the far end, the closet. On the opposite wall are the two windows, with the bookcase in between, and in the center of the left wall is the bed.

Walking closer, Dan finds the bookcase is filled with classics such as _Slaughterhouse-Five_ , _The Great Gatsby_ , and _The Sound and Fury_. Several anthologies by famous authors such as Edgar Allen Poe, Katherine Porter, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow are also present.

For the first time in a long time, Dan smiles. Maybe these books are a sign that it may be all right to call this cabin ‘home,’ after all.

Moving to unpack, he opens one of the bureau drawers, only to find it already contains several sweaters. Quizzically, Dan withdraws one with a Fair Isle pattern, twisting the slim knit in his fingers. Looks like he was right, then, and Elijah did once have a family.

For several seconds, he merely contemplates the sweater, then sets it back in the drawer and goes to question Elijah about the confusing situation.

“There are a bunch of clothes in the bureau of the blue room,” he informs Elijah.

“The blue room, eh? So that’s the one you chose.” For a moment, the man’s expression is almost pensive, but then he turns away, back to the stove. “Well, anything you find in there, you’re free to use. It’s not doing anybody any good, just sitting and waiting up there like it is right now.”

The unexpected generosity catches Dan by surprise. “Thank you,” he manages, glad to remember basic gratitude despite being taken aback.

“”Don’t mention it.” Elijah ladles a heaping portion of stew into a large bowl and thrusts it at Dan. “Sit down and eat. You look like a strong breeze would blow you away.”

* * *

Everywhere Dan looks, there’s trees. Around the house, lining the road, beside the forest paths. Branches bare beyond any icicles or lingering snow, thousands of limbs stretch toward the pale sky as if desperately trying to seek out warmth and sunlight.

Delaware has trees, that’s for sure. But Dan was trapped at the farm for what in hindsight seems like an eternity, stuck working the crop fields or the livestock without ever being able to leave the property. Anything beyond what was he saw there every day stopped being real to him, instead become nothing more substantial than a barely-recalled dream. Till now, he’s forgotten that the woods exist in actual life, not just in theory.

Elijah Maypenny walks up from behind Dan as he stands in wonder, gazing out at the winter-ravaged forest before him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen trees before,” the old man says in a jocular tone. “I don’t believe that for a moment, even if you are from New York City.”

Several beats pass before it occurs to Dan that he’s the one being addressed. “Oh,” he says, realizing Elijah is speaking to him. “Well, I’m not sure what Regan told you, but I’m from Paterson, New Jersey. I’ve lived in New York, and also Delaware, though.”

Resuming his concentration on the forest, Dan notices that the sun is setting. Fiery orange light refracts through the dangling icicles on the tree branches, giving the illusion of the forest aflame with a golden glow. The sight is beautiful. Peaceful.

Elijah claps Dan on the shoulder. “Son, I’m going to go inside and put some hot chocolate on the stove. Come on in when it gets too cold out here.”

“Thanks,” Dan responds with a smile, and goes back to looking at the trees. Or he tries, at least. Right now, the sun’s rays are too bright to so much as even look in that direction.


	3. Chapter 3

At no point during his first night at the Maypenny cabin does Dan sleep; instead, he occupies himself by paging through some of the books from the shelf. At four in the morning, he vacates his room in favor of the kitchen, hoping to fix himself breakfast; it’s only when standing before the stove does Dan realize his culinary skills, already limited, have gone without practice for more than six months. Rather than risking disaster, he selects an apple from the refrigerator. Perhaps, if Dan sufficiently ingratiates himself, Elijah would be willing to give him cooking lessons.

Elijah arrives in the kitchen shortly afterward, dressed for the outdoors. He begins to assemble breakfast ingredients, frowning at Dan’s attire as he does. 

“Is that what you’re wearing?” He asks. “Those boots and that jacket aren’t fit for the weather, son.”

Dan is clad in a leather jacket that was formerly his father’s and the cowboy boots Luth gave to him. The jacket is too large, hanging off his wiry shoulders, and the boots are growing too small, pinching his toes with every step. 

“I don’t have anything else,” he explains to Elijah. “The Sleins gave me work boots and a coat to wear, but on loan. They took them back when I left the farm.”

“Hmm.” Elijah’s expression is less than pleased, but, as he piles Dan’s plate high with eggs and pancakes, Dan concludes the ire is not directed at him.

The morning goes smoothly, with Elijah instructing Dan on various tasks throughout the preserve, until it comes time for Dan leave for the bus stop. Although Elijah sends him on his way with directions, Dan finds himself hopelessly lost in the preserve in a matter of minutes. Finally, after stumbling around in the ice and snow for almost a half hour, he locates the correct point, barely reaching the area with enough time to catch the bus. The driver sends him an impatient glance as Dan runs up the steps at the last possible moment.

His stomach twists with anxiety at the prospect of attending a new school, but Dan does his best to suppress the worry, as he does with every other emotion he experiences. But when he scans the bus for an empty seat, another student with incredibly messy hair is snickering and pointing at him, leaning to whisper cattily into the ear of the girl sharing the seat. This girl is a pretty brunette who’s wearing a dress that, if memory serves from his time palling around with Luth and his wealthy friends, costs more than a year’s worth of groceries. She smirks and nods as her friend whispers to her, both of them glancing back and forth at Dan and then each other, obviously intentionally broadcasting to him that he’s the topic of their discussion. Still, the blatant passive-aggressive behavior is flagrant nearly to the point of admirability.  

Turning his back to them, Dan hefts his Tom Ford backpack (thoughtfully shoplifted for him by Luth) and swiftly slides into the closest empty spot, pretending he can’t sense their smirks throughout the entire bus ride. 

Little improves during the morning. To introduce Dan to the new school, he’s assigned some incessantly chatty guide by the name of Mart Belden. Throughout the entire morning, Dan is forced to suffer through the kid’s endless yammering until, at long last, he manages to ditch him in the cafeteria when Mart tries to invite him to his usual table.

“No way in hell,” Dan says flatly, when Mart attempts to corral him to a spot where the snobby brunette and her curly-haired friend of indeterminate gender are sitting. “I’m not going to spend my one free period today being patronized by a bunch of backwoods yokels.” The Sleins gave him enough of that to last a lifetime.

“But where—” Mart begins, but Dan interrupts.

“There.” He jerks his thumb at a table where a group of boys in letterman jackets are setting down their trays and strides over, leaving Mart behind.

“Mind if I sit here?” Dan asks one of them. His blue hair and facial piercings are recognizable from Dan’s morning English class.

“Of course not.” He smiles at Dan, pulling out a chair beside himself and indicating for Dan to sit. “I’m Taz Devlin. And you’re Dan Mangan, the new kid.” Pointing down the row of their tablemates, he names each one of them. “Across from me is Avery Hollington-Chatsworth, then Jerry Vanderhoef, Tad Webster, and then Michael Larson. Kingston Wright usually sits here, too, but his parents are letting him ditch school for a concert.”

“Lucky bastard,” the one named Jerry grumbles. 

“No worries, Jerry, he’ll just grow up to be vain and spoiled. Unlike the rest of us.” The blond named Avery smirks and offers Dan his hand. “Hey, Dan. What’s with the leather jacket? You a rebel without a cause?”

“More than I can ever say,” Dan replies dryly. 

Until later that day after school, when he’s yet again lost beyond hope in the game preserve, Dan doesn’t realize how  _ good _ it felt to be wanted. Every foster home he’s had, then Regan, and now Elijah, have had him foisted upon them. He was made readily aware of his status as an inconvenience. But Taz and his friends welcomed Dan to their lunch table and invited him back, placing no price on their graciousness. Unlike that brunette and her friend, they didn’t mock him, but treated him like a person who deserved goodwill and respect.

Being wanted was one of the reasons he was infatuated with Luth as quickly as he was, Dan realizes heavily. With his mother dead and his father gone, Dan wanted some form of attention. Of security. And Luth’s attention, prurient as it was, served that purpose.

The clip-clop of hooves on the trail behind him tears Dan away from his brooding. It’s those two from the bus,  _ again _ . Though he stands aside to let the two of them pass, he lets himself be dragged into an argument by that jackass with badly-permed hair. The altercation escalates till he’s trying to ride a horse to prove a point, and though he’s had Western riding lessons, the unfamiliar tack on this horse hinders him. The immediate result is being thrown from the horse and ripping his father’s jacket. Ultimately, though, after a shouting match with Regan, the outcome is that Dan will be provided a horse to work on the game preserve as long as he’s willing to learn English-style riding.

The horse given to him is a handsome blue roan named Spartan, with feathered hooves and an ornery demeanor that makes him seem older than his four years. While not particularly inclined to emotion, Dan can’t hide a thrilled smile at the prospect of having a horse to call his own.

“Suck on that, you curly-haired freak,” he mutters, holding his palm open for Spartan to graze on some sugar cubes.

* * *

That snobby brunette girl at school loses her watch and immediately blames Dan for it. Given how she and her rat’s nest-haired friend seem intent on making Dan’s life exceedingly arduous, he can’t say he’s surprised.

“This is the last straw,” Regan informs him in a very tightly controlled voice. His hands are planted on the table, and he’s leaning forward; Dan can see that he’s on the verge of losing his temper. “I know you took that watch and sold it to Mr. Lytell.”

“I’ve never so much as met Lytell,” Dan says calmly as he sits at the kitchen table, holding a mug of cocoa.

A muscle in Regan’s jaw twitches. “Daniel. You placed both of our jobs at risk when you stole that watch. You’ve sealed your fate. I’m sending you to that reform school at the end of the week.”

“I had nothing to do with that watch, and I’ll prove it.” Dan levels an unblinking gaze at Regan. “Take me to Lytell. Ask him if I’m the person who sold him that watch. He’ll tell you that he’s never met me before, and this will all be resolved.”

“I don’t have time for your lies,” Regan snaps. “Do you have anything else to say for yourself?”

A pause resounds in their conversation as Dan lifts his mug, sips from his hot chocolate, and sets his mug back down. Once his mug rests safely on the table again, he asks, “Where was my mother buried?”

Apparently, Regan was unprepared for this question. He lurches back, arms falling limply to his sides, and his face oddly blank. “What?”

“I left for New York City before she could be buried,” Dan explains placidly. “I’d like to visit her grave sometime, but I’m not sure where she is.”

For a several heartbeats, Regan merely stares at Dan like he’s never seen him before in his life, before whirling around and stalking out the front door.

“I wonder what flowers I should bring to her,” Dan says to the empty room.

He receives no response.


	4. Chapter 4

The good news is that Dan is able to find Luth again.

The bad news is that Luth is pretty much out of his mind. He has obviously continued with meth—not only does he look unhealthy, but also prematurely aged. But as the attack on Elijah indicated, the side effects of paranoia, violence, and instability have also taken hold.

“We need to rob that mansion,” Luth tells him. The orange light of the fire glints in his eyes, bringing him to look even more crazed. “You said those people have money. We’ll get that money, and we’ll use it.”

Warily, Dan studies Luth’s face, and decides to attempt to reason with him despite the likely futility. “It would be too much of a risk to rob them. No one keeps very much cash with them these days. Their money is likely in the bank, or tied up in investments, which doesn’t help us at all.”

“We can still go there,” Luth insists. “I’ve got a gun, and you’ve got that knife I gave. We can take them on.” 

Any hope Dan has about trying to subdue Luth with the switchblade are abruptly extinguished. No way does he stand a chance against some meth addict with a gun, and neither does any unsuspecting person at the Manor House. And just as Dan despairs of the situation holding any last chance of improvement, that Trixie Belden comes stumbling out of the woods, wailing and crying about how he or she has endangered a child that’s supposed to be in his or her care. However, Trixie is only wearing a blouse without any type of coat or sweater, and Dan is finally able to determine if Trixie is male or female: given that the pocket of her blouse is on the left side rather than the right, he can safely conclude that Trixie is a girl.

Honestly, Dan does not expect for both him and Trixie to live through the encounter with Luth. Yet somehow, they do, with Luth staggering off in the direction of the Manor House, and Trixie hurriedly leading Dan through the preserve to some sort of cave or animal den. 

To his immense relief, the child answers Trixie’s calls; not only is Dan glad her younger brother is all right, but he himself wasn’t completely sure the whole scenario was on the level. Not that he’s glad a child is at risk of harm, but at least this wasn’t some sort of prank intended to lure him into a dangerous cave to enact some sort of humiliation upon him. Now, he knows there certainly is a child who needs his help, and child seems to have more than a fighting chance for survival.

Moving automatically, Dan gives his jacket to keep Trixie warm and crawls down into the cave, managing to find her kid brother and use Luth’s switchblade to free him. His actions barely register with him; with every movement, he already has be thinking for three steps ahead. A weight lifts of his shoulders when he brings the kid out of the cave to Trixie’s tearful embrace, but even then, Dan’s work is not finished.

Trixie appears to realize the remaining dangers as well. “That awful man!” She exclaims. “Luke was saying he was planning to use his gun to rob the Manor House!”

“Luth,” Dan corrects. “And yes. Which is you’ll take this knife—” he grabs Trixie’s hand and wraps her fingers around the handle of the switchblade “—and use it to protect yourself. And keep the jacket, too. I don’t know how much longer you’ll be out here.”

“Where are you going?” Trixie demands. 

“To stop Luth,” Dan informs her, scanning the nearby tree line. He’s still not particularly familiar with the preserve, and the darkness of night contorts what little sense of direction he has.

“That catamount is still around,” Trixie warns him. “Bobby and I are going back to your fire to wait there for help.”

“If I have the chance, I’ll send help to you,” Dan promises, as he starts off in what he thinks in the right direction. 

“Wrong way,” Trixie tells him. She points to where he should go. “Luke went the wrong way, too—he’s probably going see the lights from the stables and mistake it for the Manor House. If you hurry, you might be able to stop him.”

“Thanks,” Dan says grimly before charging off into the woods.

The night air is frigid, and his puffs of breath are visible when he exhales. More than once, his boots, their Western design vastly unsuited to the snow and ice, slide out from under him when he tries to veer left or right, bringing him crashing to the ground. Each time it occurs, Dan sustains new injuries, and by the third time he pushes himself upright yet again, the sharp, metallic taste of blood is leaking from his split lip into his mouth. The sharp wind slices at the thin fabric of his worn sweater, but Dan can’t allow the cold to delay him. People are in danger, and it’s his fault: he’s the one whose letter brought Luth here.

While crashing through the dark forest, a few unfocused thoughts about the danger float through Dan’s head, but he dismisses them one after the other, unwilling to shift his priorities. He’ll likely die during this encounter with Luth, as Luth is armed, and, due to the drugs, violent and unpredictable. But that’s okay. Given that he’s about to be shipped out to a reform school until he’s eighteen and then released onto the streets with no legitimate prospects, the world isn’t about to weep to see him go.

All too often, Dan slows in an attempt to reassess his location and try to reference his knowledge of the Wheeler property, but is continually impeded by his limited comprehension of the local terrain. Forced to rely solely on vague hunches, by the time he somehow bumbles his way the lake, he’s certain that the only explanation for his success can be divine intervention. 

With the stables in view, Dan begins sprinting toward the structure, scrutinizing the dim landscape for any hint of Luth. Just when he thinks he’s at his maximum speed, he hears the resounding crack of a gunshot echo through the night, and he forces his legs to churn faster, desperate to prevent any further bloodshed. 

But as he races to the source of the sound, Dan finds an unlikely scene before him. Luth is lying on the ground, prone and groaning, as an unknown woman stands several paces away, silhouetted in the yellow glow of the stable lights. A handgun in her gloved grip is trained unwaveringly on Luth.

“Identify yourself,” the woman commands sharply as Dan approaches.

Holding up his hands to demonstrate his good intentions, Dan struggles to keep a steady voice as the night’s seemingly endless stress begins to take its toll. “Dan Mangan. Assistant game keeper for the Wheelers.”

“Ah.” A quick smile flits across the woman’s features, and Dan is struck by her resemblance to that brunette girl from school. “Then you must be Regan’s nephew. I’m Madeline Wheeler. Welcome to Sleepyside.”

* * *

When the Wheelers and Beldens offer Dan membership to their club, he readily accepts. Admittedly, he’s much less interested in forging friendships as much as establishing a place for himself. In particular, Regan seems impressed by this group, so signing on with them appears to be both an advisable and strategic move, given Dan’s present situation. 

They’re not a bad bunch, Dan must admit. Terminally square and entitled, but certainly not as insufferable as he’d once thought. Besides, it’s good to be wanted, even if in this case, it’s just to make amends for their previous actions.

With the initial wrinkles surrounding Dan’s arrival in Sleepyside now ironed out, Dan somewhat expects Regan to assume a type of familial role towards him. But other than buying Dan a pair of ice-skates to use in the BWG carnival, Regan keeps his distance. It’s not quite like how he previously went out of his way to hide and refuse to acknowledge his relationship with Dan, but it’s a narrow improvement. 

Thus, Dan decides to be the one to extend camaraderie, in various forms, to Regan. During his off hours, he visits the stables and tries to help out with chores. While never appearing all that enthused about Dan’s presence, Regan seems resignedly accepting of him, leading Dan to attempt an experiment. During one of these visits, he casually addresses Regan as his uncle; however, the reception is decidedly icy.

“Want my help cleaning those saddles, Uncle Bill?” Dan asks solicitously. He’s careful to keep his voice cheerful. He wants to seem wholesome. Like the BWGs. Like someone Regan would like.

The title brings Regan to freeze in the midst of stowing away riding equipment, but as he’s facing in the opposite direction, Dan can’t see his expression. For a long moment, the only sound in the stables is some Faith Hill song— “Breathe,” if the frequent repetition of the word in the lyrics is anything to go by— playing on that godawful country music station Regan likes.

“It’s ‘Regan,’” his uncle informs him. “Just ‘Regan.’”

“Liam it is,” Dan mutters to himself as Regan strides away.

In further endeavors to win Regan’s favor, as well as make amends for his “Uncle Bill” faux pas, Dan increases his efforts. He drops by Regan’s apartment frequently, though Regan is absent more often than not. But since Dan’s near the garage fairly regularly, he strikes up a friendship with Tom, who’s always seemed pleasant and agreeable. He never seems to mind Dan hanging around, and treats him  similarly to how Dan imagines one might regard a younger brother. He talks to Dan about the cars and instructs him on basic maintenance and repairs.

“How do you like it?” Tom asks him one time, when Dan is helping him scrub away crusted rock salt from the vehicles. “Living and working in the woods, I mean.”

The question leaves Dan taken aback. No one else has ever bothered to ask him before if he likes his living arrangements — not social services, not the Wheelers, and certainly not Regan. As far as any of them were concerned, his opinion was never even a factor. But it’s nice, Dan realizes, a sudden rush of affection for Tom flooding through him. Someone asking after him, caring enough to want to hear what he has to say is a welcome change.

“It’s all right,” he replies. “The work isn’t a big change from my previous foster home — you know that it was a farm. So I’m not opposed to chores. Elijah has been very generous to me, which I appreciate, and he allows me a lot of freedom to come and go as I please. It’s certainly not a bad place to be.”

Tom smiles at him. “No, it’s definitely not.”

Upon casually flipping through the old book of recipes and remedies passed down from his mother’s side of the family, Dan locates a recipe for coffee braids. Struck with inspiration, he decides to charm Regan through the power of baked goods. After several long days laboring over the hot stove, he’s able to create ones that look halfway decent — and taste tests conducted by Mart Belden indicate that the results have at least always been appetizing.

Though he could easily take the treats down to the stables, Dan isn’t willing to risk the possibility of a public rejection. 

However, his multiple tries to leave them in Regan’s apartment are thwarted by Regan’s sudden consciousness about home security; he’s begun firmly locking the door whenever he’s gone. After several unsuccessful trips to the apartment with the coffee braids in tow, Dan winds up passing them onto a gracious Tom and Celia. The other, more mangled attempts at baking go to bribing Bobby Belden to behave during the times when Trixie cons Dan into baby-sitting for her.

* * *

**Spring, Freshman Year**

With the arrival of spring comes Andrew Belden, who is staying in Sleepyside for a short time to visit his niece and nephews. The remaining BWGs are invited to meet him, and Dan attends, though he can’t help but feel like an intruder. But he suspects he would feel uncomfortable at Crabapple Farm regardless; after all, it was only a few weeks ago that Trixie and Honey were pointing and snickering at his limited clothing options.

In an attempt to make himself more comfortable, Dan tries to talk to Mart. In the past few weeks, they’ve found surprising common ground: both of them are fans of  _ Star Wars  _ and  _ Star Trek _ .

“I’ve just dug out my  _ Young Jedi Knights  _ collection from the attic,” Mart tells him. “They’re aimed at younger kids, though. You can tell that they’re written much more simplistically. They’re not exactly ‘kiddie,’ per se, but the writing of situations and characters is so facile. I wonder if that’s just Kevin J. Anderson’s style.” He nods at Bobby, who, in excitement at the various houseguests, is bouncing off the walls like the eponymous Calvin from  _ Calvin & Hobbes _ . “I’m giving him my old  _ Jedi Prince _ books.”

“When I first read KJA’s books, I didn’t realize how intricately connected they were to the other events in the  _ Star Wars Expanded Universe _ ,” Dan begins. However, the mention of his name brings him to pause, and Dan can't but overhear Trixie's conversation with her Uncle Andrew. She's been giving him the details of the club's adventures for the past half hour, and finally, she arrives at the topic of Dan, their latest member.

“Regan brought Dan to Sleepyside after he got into trouble in New York City, but with our help, Dan was able to turn his life around! He's much happier now that he's a member of our club,” Trixie helpfully exposits.

It's odd to hear himself explained in that manner, as though he's yet another one of the Bob-Whites' charity projects, like the sole reason he isn't at a juvenile detention center is due to their intervention. Well, that much is true, ignoring that Honey and Trixie were responsible for convincing Regan to send him back in the first place, although Regan needed so little convincing from the start.

Mart has overheard the conversation as well, and he turns to Dan with his face burning, mouth gaping, clearly mortified at his sister's words.

“It's okay,” Dan says quietly, even though his stomach is churning and he suddenly feels unwelcome and self-conscious.

In fairness, his motives for joining the Bob-Whites were more related to self-preservation than altruism. But hypocritical as it may be, he despises the idea that he was brought into the club so they could prop him up as some kind of mascot of their moral decency.

Is that what he is to the BWGs? Some sort of token member to fill a minority slot that existed so they could congratulate themselves, a living symbol to demonstrate their kindness and generosity?

What’s more is the ludicrous implication that a new environment and new friends should be capable of transforming him. Dan’s settings have changed; his personality has not. And yet, some people are convinced that being in Sleepyside “healed” him or something. Please — the idea is so unrealistic it’s almost cartoonish.

But he’s pulled away from any type of bitterness or outrage when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Raising his gaze, Dan meets the eyes of Mart, who gives him a smile that’s a blend of sympathy and sheepishness.

Though his first instinct is to reject any display of pity, Dan recognizes the gesture of goodwill, and, for the first time in a long time, finds himself smiling back. 

* * *

In an effort to keep up appearances, Dan regularly “eats” (read: reads during) lunch with the other BWGs. Serendipitously, despite the three girls being in middle school, Jim and Brian being juniors, and he and Mart being freshmen, they all have the same lunch period, meaning they can all dine together with no interference.

Every once in a while, though, Dan neglects the cafeteria in favor of the library, bringing an apple to munch on while completing any homework or projects. To be honest, he doesn’t need the extra time; chronic insomnia has plagued him since his foster care days, and he has more than ample time for his schoolwork at night, when most usual people are asleep.

But some days, he just needs a break from the constant noise, interaction, and observation. It’s not just that it’s exhausting to always be alert, always be watchful, but the idea of people watching him, noting his movements, starts an itch beneath his skin. The concept of being around people, with him hyperaware of them and them aware of him, wears on Dan too deeply to go without respite for an extended time.

The far corner of the library is surrounded by nonfiction books, which, in the information age, other students rarely utilize. Thus, the area is fairly secluded and private, considering it’s in the building of a public school. The relative quiet of the location brings Dan to consider it an optimal spot, and on one occasion he remains indoors during a fire drill to drag a table and chair behind the shelves unquestioned, effectively claiming the site as “his.”

During one lunchtime in the library, Dan is absorbed in a copy of  _ Flowers for Algernon  _ when a lunch sack is dropped on the table before him, followed by Mart Belden sitting down in the chair beside him.

Dan glances up from his book, arching an eyebrow.

“In preparation of our mutual noontime repast, I shrewdly secured surplus sustenance,” Mart informs him promptly, opening up the paper bag and rummaging through the contents. “Let’s see, we’ve got ham and cheese cornbread, apple crisp baked oatmeal, raspberries, and chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.” 

“Have you undertaken it as your mission to feed me?” Dan inquires, bemused. “You can drop the elaborate vocab around me, you know. I’m not some middle schooler with big violet eyes who’d be impressed.”

“Hmph.” An irritated expression crosses Mart’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by a teasing smirk. “Dan, my good man, your secret is out. With my ace detective skills—” Mart taps a temple with his finger, “—I deduced that you usually eat lunch in the library every Thursday or so. I wanted to join you for lunch, and since you never eat, I didn’t want to bring food without any to share with you.”

“Hmm.” Dan wasn’t aware that his routine became easily predictable in such a short time. He’ll have to make sporadic changes in the near future—since it’s spring now, maybe he can find some way to sneak out on to the roof. “But what are you doing here?”

“I know you declined my uncle’s invitation to Iowa, even though the rest of us plan to go,” Mart begins. “Anything I can do to change your mind?”

“Not really,” Dan tells him. “Honestly, I’m just looking forward to having some downtime from studying. And while I don’t mind learning, damn do I hate being trapped in one building all day.”

“We could hang out together,” Mart wheedles.

“And do what? Have a sheep shearing party?” Dan does not hide his skepticism. 

“There’s probably a corn maze we could do,” Mart offers.

“Are you sure you don’t want to angle for some private time with Diana instead?” Dan smirks. He’s been aware of the affections the two have for one another since the day he’d met them. Whether they’d ever go further than admiring glances, or if a relationship between them would be successful or even remotely feasible, remained to be seen.

“She thinks you’re very handsome, you know,” Mart notes.

Uncertain what type of response the statement warrants, Dan shrugs in a deliberate show of false modesty. “Well,  _ I  _ think I’m very handsome, too.”

“I’ll bet the girls in Iowa would also appreciate your handsomeness,” Mart hints.

“No,” Dan says flatly.

“C’mon, Dan,” Mart complains. “Have some pity on me, please? I don’t want to be a third wheel during this trip. I need my own bro, someone to have my back when I need it.”

“No.” Dan sighs. “But if it makes you feel any better, Mart, once fall starts, we can visit all the corn mazes to your heart’s content.”

* * *

While the Bob-Whites are away in Iowa, Dan makes a discovery while trying to familiarize himself with the Wheeler property.

In an area of the woods not too far from the game preserve is a long forgotten cemetery that sits near the top of the hill. Though less than a quarter mile off the main road, the shroud of trees and towering hedges give the illusion of privacy. Climbing vines wind throughout the tree branches in a thick canopy, and lending the entire property a cloak of shadows and dimness. The tall gates are closed and locked, flanked by a duo of life-size angel statues standing on pedestals, but Dan can squeeze through a gap in the wrought iron fence that is not quite disguised by several close-quartered thuja shrubs.

The main path of set bricks snakes throughout the graves. Some sit above the ground like sarcophagi, and many are guarded by large statues or are otherwise elaborately embellished to the point that it’s reminiscent of art gallery. Several small mausoleums dot the landscape. The path concludes at the most sunless, gloomy corner of the place, which contains a large, arch-shaped marble headstone beneath a high arbor laden with trailing vines. A sculpture of a weeping woman crouches at the tomb’s base, her face covered by her hands.

Though Dan first happens across the cemetery quite unintentionally, and then only enters due to innate curiosity, an odd emotion settles over him as he wanders among the graves. 

Familiarity. 

Peace. 

Almost as if . . . he belongs here. 

The quiet, Dan concludes when he departs, after remaining within the cemetery's gates for nearly an hour. That’s what draws him in. The silence and the absence of people. Here, he can escape any prying eyes and simply be himself. He can stop worrying about impressing Regan, measuring up to the other BWGs, or exactly what the future holds for him now that he’s in Sleepyside.

Alone in the cemetery, Dan doesn’t have to put on airs. He doesn’t have to revise or censor pieces of himself to give comfort to others. He can stop pretending that he doesn’t have a past.

In the cemetery, there’s  _ only _ the past.

Returning the following day, Dan settles by the tombstone with the weeping woman and contemplates his surroundings. It’s cliché, Dan thinks, that some troubled delinquent kid hangs out in a cemetery in his spare time. A cemetery that’s oh-so-conveniently nearby the game preserve where he works.

But then, some troubled delinquent kid being shipped to a backwoods small town to “change his ways” or “reform” is pretty goddam cliché by itself.

Trixie’s words to her Uncle Andrew, never far from Dan’s mind, drift to the front of his thoughts.

_ “ . . . with our help, Dan was able to turn his life around! He's much happier now that he's a member of our club.”  _

Just recalling Trixie’s self-aggrandizing little speech brings Dan’s blood to boil and his fist to automatically clench.

In all honesty, though, it’s not Trixie’s fault. That night when Dan rescued Trixie and Bobby, and Mrs. Wheeler rescued him, Trixie tried to apologize for accusing Dan of stealing Honey’s watch. Just as Dan opened his mouth to accept, Regan interrupted to pardon Trixie of any mistakes or malice, placing all the blame squarely on Dan’s shoulders.

Typical Regan. Like Dan could help Trixie’s snide comments that spewed from her mouth the moment she saw him wearing his father’s leather jacket. The only jacket he owned.

With everyone and their dog always rushing to absolve Trixie of blame for her own actions, it’s no wonder she glides in and accepts credit for others’ personal decisions and ethics.

“ . . .  _ was able to turn his life around! He's much happier . . . ” _

His situation may have changed, but Dan himself hasn’t. He’s still the same person who walked onto the Sleepyside High School bus to be subsequently mocked by Trixie, and he’s the same person who rescued Trixie and Bobby that night in the preserve. At no point did he spontaneously change into a better person. No sudden achievement of enlightenment, no magical personality shift, not even a conscious decision to have stronger morals.

The setting might have changed, but Dan in Sleepyside is the same Dan he’s always been.

The jury is still out on if that’s actually a good thing.

With a sigh, Dan rises and ambles out of the cemetery, weaving through the maze of tombstones. He rounds the corner of a mausoleum and is surprised when he nearly collides with another person: a pretty brunette girl who looks a few years older than him and wears a very startled expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushes to say.

“It’s all right,” she replies kindly, the surprise on her face fading into a friendly smile. “I just didn’t realize anyone else came here.”

Dan shrugs and tries his best to smile back; the expression feels foreign on his features. “No one else really does, from what I can tell.”

She chuckles softly and extends her hand. “I’m Esther Kerioth. I see you around Sleepyside High sometimes. I’m a junior there.”

“Dan Mangan. Freshman.” Dan returns, shaking Esther’s hand.

As their introduction finishes, she steps past him, moving further into the cemetery as he takes his leave. “Nice to meet you, Dan. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Yeah. See you.” For a moment, Dan just watches Esther go, before turning and continuing in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Written for**  
> [ **2nd Jixanny CWP**](http://jixemitri.net/circle/projects/cwpanni2.html). Here are the following elements:
> 
> \- A backpack: the Tom Ford backpack Luth shoplifted for Dan.
> 
> \- A cartoon character: Bobby behaving like Calvin from Calvin & Hobbes.
> 
> \- Lost stories: Dan’s The Lord of the Rings books.
> 
> \- A tribute: The quilt hanging on the wall in the Maypenny Cabin. 
> 
> \- Broken communication: Dan’s time in the foster care system, as well as the inaction regarding his arrest.
> 
> \- Freckles: Regan’s freckles.
> 
> \- Leather clothing: Dan’s black leather jacket.
> 
> \- Someone driving a bus: the driver of the school bus.
> 
> \- Someone sitting without pants: Honey, wearing a dress, sitting on the school bus.
> 
> \- “Breathe” by Faith Hill: it plays on the radio when Regan tells Dan not to call him “Uncle Bill.”


End file.
